


Terminal Velocity

by Miriam_Heddy



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 10:02:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4621164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miriam_Heddy/pseuds/Miriam_Heddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The terminal velocity of an adult jumping out of a plane is about 50 m/s (about 180 km/hour) although a specially equipped and trained skydiver can reach much higher speeds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terminal Velocity

      **H** e knew it was a dream as soon as he saw skin. Funny thing was, it wasn't the cow walking backwards across South Racine, or the streetlights all going off at once. It wasn't even the couple of inches of cold water lapping around his ankles. Somehow, he figured Fraser could've been responsible for any of those things, or would tell him, at length, who was. Actually, he was kind of looking forward to the explanation for the cow, but when he opened his mouth to ask, Fraser just looked at him. So didn't ask, because even with his eyes closed, he could make out the "shut up and follow me" look.

With Fraser taking his clothes off, it became pretty damned clear he was asleep and this was either going to be one of those Fun-With-Fraser-dreams where he woke up falling, or else one of those nocturnal permissions, which were a little harder to deal with if it turned out he was drooling on his desk. 

Funny thing was, there was still just the slightest, slightest chance he was awake, because Fraser _could_ , probably, make a cow walk backwards, and when you're pursuing justice, and you're Canadian, and it was the second Tuesday in July during a freak power outtage, you sometimes had to take all your clothes off. 

So he waited for Fraser to get to the punchline (which, if Fraser was actually telling a joke, as opposed to risking both their lives, would be the cue for him to sit down somewhere comfortable, have a drink, put his feet up, and think about going out for pizza after he laughed.). Maybe naked-Fraser'd open a window and jump out of it. Maybe he'd open the window and push _Ray_ out of it. Ray looked at the window, saw it was already open, and figured that, with his luck, this was going to be one of those, "Ray, take off your clothes, fold them neatly into a pile--here, let me do that, see how simple it is if you take your time with the folds?--and jump out of the window naked" days. 

It was maybe eighty out, and this was only the--what--fifth floor? So... fuck it. Like Fraser expected the barometric pressure to make any difference, one way or another, as to whether Ray was lured into stripping and jumping to his death. His naked, sweaty death. 

With his luck, he'd probably land on the cow. And Stella would be standing there, over his dead body, mocking him. 

Which is when he realized that he was glad he'd already decided this was a dream, because no way in hell Fraser looked like _that_ naked.

It was kind of spooky, actually. Like one of those porno boxes where everything was airbrushed out. Except it was all there where it should be; it was just... _smoother_ than it should be. And tidier. Like somebody took a comb to Fraser's hair. Around his dick. 

Christ, tidier? 

Strangely enough, he must've been laughing on the _inside_ , because Fraser didn't blink. Literally. He didn't blink. As happens in dreams (and only sometimes in real life), Fraser was frozen there, with tidy pubes and no asshole (and Ray didn't walk around to double-check that, because this was his dream, and his seriously fucked up mental image of his seriously fucked up partner, so no, there was _not_ going to be an asshole there, and no, he didn't need to _see_ it not there, or think about why he knew that it wouldn't be, or what it might actually look like if it _was_. Or feel like.

If it was there and his dick were in it up to his balls.

Christ. Wake up, already, Kowalski. Pervert. 

Maybe this was Fraser's dream. 

Maybe this was Fraser's dream and he just had to wait here for Fraser to decide what came next. 

He liked that idea, because it meant he didn't have to really do anything about it. Go with the flow. 

Except the water was up to his knees now, and Fraser might decide not to move until they were actually underwater, just to prolong the thrill, and he didn't give a shit whose dream this was, he was not holding his breath again, not even if it meant he got to go mouth to mouth with Fraser. 

Maybe it was a mad cow. Maybe it was the cow he ate for lunch, tucked between those really good buns they had at the deli. Buns. 

Christ, he really should just jump out the window. Then it would turn into a falling dream, at which point he would either die, or wake up, either of which would be an improvement. 

Should he take his clothes off first, was the question. 

Fuck it. Jump. 

Just-- 

"Bad dream?" 

"Do I tend to wake up in a flopsweat from the good dreams?" 

"Well...." Fraser looked like he was going for chastened, but got stuck somewhere around amused. Oddly enough, that was happening more and more lately. 

Ray looked down at the tent-pole he was pointing Fraser's way. 

"Yeah, so maybe it wasn't bad as much as it was-- bad. And no, I don't think it would help to tell you about it. And no, I don't want a shower, unless flopsweat turns you off--" 

He didn't have to look too hard at Fraser's not terribly tidy erection to see that it didn't. 

"Fair enough. Roll over." 

And there it was, Fraser's ass. Not exactly buns of steel, but with that roundness he still thought of as gay. Which made no sense, except that it did, and apparently he was. 

"Where's the lube." 

"The tube or the--umm--bottle?" 

"Do you actually have a preference?" 

"No." 

"Good answer, Frase." 

"On the floor at the foot of the bed." 

"Which one?" 

"Both, I think." 

"Don't fuck with my head." 

"Come to think of it, the Maximus _did_ seem particularly long-lasting-"

"Losing interest, here." 

"Whereas the Astroglide, while effective, did have a slight aftertaste which I believe comes from the citrus oils used as a preservative." 

"I do not need to hear this, Fraser." 

"On the other hand, the Maximus' bio-static properties would give it a slight advantage should we be worried about the transmission of disease." " _Should_ we be worried about disease?" He was _not_ going to ask what bio-static meant. 

"No. I was simply offering a--" 

"Frase--I am fully prepared to use spit. And don't tell me what's in spit, because I'm _this_ close to tucking it in and calling it a night, here." 

"Understood." Finally, Fraser got to chastened. 

"Good, because we're not using the Maximus, because _somebody_ left the cap off it and I think Dief was eating it again." 

"It's really quit good for his--" 

"That's it. Don't know why I edited out his asshole. Should've been that mouth." 

"You did _what_?" Fraser rolled over onto his back, and the fact that he was still hard did nothing to change Ray's mind. Fraser was a freak, and his particular brand of freakishness was apparently catching, and no amount of bio-static lube was going to protect him. 

And the fact that he still sort of wanted to fuck him was just--wrongness. 

Good thing he always woke up before he hit the ground, because Fraser pushed him down onto his back and started sucking him in, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked and sucked until Ray came. 

"Hmm." 

"Hmm?" 

"I think I prefer the Maximus after all." 

Ray ignored that, or pretended to. He figured he should probably be polite and bring Fraser off, but knew he wouldn't. Take that, Freak. 

But as Ray fell asleep, he remembered that he forgot to ask Fraser about the cow. 

—FIN—

**Author's Note:**

> © 2006


End file.
